


The Old Ache Of Hunger

by anemic_cinema



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Rimming, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick's return makes Shane feel like he's starving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Ache Of Hunger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindgumby](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=blindgumby).



> Happy birthday Steph! I finally finished the thing!

Shane listed his own emotions to himself, trying to figure out why seeing Rick alive didn't make him happy like it should. It was shock first. The shock of seeing a friend long thought dead. Then shame. Shame for leaving him behind. Then anger. Anger for him coming back, screwing up the weird balance Shane had created for himself. Before Rick showed up, looking as lucky and golden as he ever had, Shane had carved out something like control. He was the leader, kind of. He had a woman and a son, kind of. And now he had nothing, except his anger and his fists and his shame. 

Ed had been an easy target. Despite everyone's fearful expressions, Shane honestly believed what he'd done was right. The guy had been asking for it, and no one in camp could say that he wasn't the type of guy that was worse than trash. That was why Shane had beat him down good and hard. Except when he did it he hadn't seen the other man's face. He'd seen something that looked like himself. 

Like the list, it didn't explain anything. 

It only helped for a little bit. Soon Rick was talking like he was in charge, and the anger swelled again. His friend wasn't thinking straight. He should just be happy to be back with his wife and son, and not try and play the hero. 

Shane wasn't sure why he decided to follow Rick, or why he watched in silence as he washed up in the quarry lake, or why he followed him again when he was done. All he knew was anger, and an ache that was worse than that.

“Rick!” Shane shouted out, too overwhelmed to care about the volume of his voice. His friend wheeled around to face him, looking a little confused as to why Shane would sound so angry. The confusion turned into anger too when Shane pushed him up against a tree.

Rick's shirt was balled up in Shane's fists. The fabric felt too much like his old life, and it made everything worse. 

The only time Shane would think about what happened next was when he drank himself into oblivion at the CDC. It was the last time he allowed himself to remember how hard his lips smashed against Rick's, and how Rick has pushed back. Not pushing him away, but pushing into the kiss, kissing him back like he was starved. Like he was desperate. Like he didn't care that Shane has left him in that goddamn hospital, and he didn't care that he'd been playing father and husband with his family. Rick kissed like kissing Shane was the only thing keeping him alive, and like it was the reason he made his way back.

The anger was gone now, leaving room for that horrible ache in Shane's throat and gut. It was like the way your stomach feels when you're starving. So bad it makes you lightheaded and dizzy and angry at yourself for not eating sooner. Except in this case, Shane couldn't do anything to make it go away. Even back before, nothing helped. He'd always figured that it would be the background to his entire life, feeling starved and never being able to relieve it.

The only thing making it hurt less was Rick's hands on the back of his neck and head, keeping him close. Shane remembered the last time they'd done this. The Christmas party at the station last year, outside as Shane had helped Rick to his car. Once they'd gotten in Rick had pulled him into sloppy kisses and even sloppier declarations of love and friendship. He'd called him his brother. Afterward Shane marveled at how fucked up that was considering that right afterwards Rick had gone down on him. 

No less fucked up was that he was now grinding against Rick, and his friend was doing the same. The other man reached down and slipped his hand against Shane's crotch, palming at the bulge. This time Rick wasn't saying anything about love and friendship. His hands were doing the talking, and the only thing they were telling Shane was desire. Aching, terrible desire. It was that stupid illicit blowjob, and all the ones that had come before that they'd exchanged and never spoken out loud about. It was the nights they'd spent apart wanting to be together, instead choosing to spend it with a wife and a series of girlfriends, because togetherness was too fucking complicated and it could never work and they weren't even gay besides-

Rick yanked Shane's pants open, and shoved them down. He made like he was going to sink to his knees but the other man stopped him. Rick looked at him, confused. Shane didn't elaborate, instead he spun him around, shoved him against the tree, and assumed the position Rick had wanted to take. He buried his face against his friend's ass. Despite just having washed up, Rick smelled like sweat and musk. Probably from his dirty clothes. It didn't matter. Shane wanted him too bad for anything to matter. He wanted him so bad he was drooling, and every swipe of his tongue against Rick's hole left a dripping trail. For all he cared, anyone from camp, including Lori, could see him on his knees eating Rick's ass, and he'd make no apologies for it. Except for Carl. The kid deserved better than to find out about...this.

“Sha-” Rick wheezed out his name, or tried to, before giving up and letting it devolve into a groan. Shane squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped onto one the other man's ass cheek harder. His other hand was too busy jerking himself off fast and painful-like to worry about symmetry. There was a refrain stuck in his head, and no matter how he tried to focus on his tongue lapping at the other man's hole, it wouldn't stop.

“So fucked up. So fucked up.”

He mumbled it against his friend's skin, the vibration from the words making Rick shudder. Shane was so lost in the combined haze of guilt and desire to notice when Rick came. He only noticed when Rick pushed him away. At that point Shane was pretty much done, thankfully. His hand was sticky and his dick hurt like a motherfucker. It wasn't the first time Rick had made him rub himself raw like this. Except most times didn't end with Rick pulling him up into a sweaty hug, resting his forehead against his chin. 

Shane thought about kissing that damp forehead. In his mind, that would let Rick know exactly how bad he'd missed him. How he'd mourned him like you would a spouse. How when he was inside of Lori, Rick was always there. Shane was about to when Rick pulled away, zipping up his pants and avoiding looking his friend in the face. He mumbled something that sounded like “sorry” and staggered off back to camp. Back to his family. Back to being the leader. Shane stood there, unmoving, the weight in his throat back heavier than ever, and the ache worse than he'd ever imagined it could be. Maybe this was how the walkers felt. The ache of hunger, driving them to eat, and eat, and consume, and destroy. That ache taking over everything and making them dumb and unable to walk straight, like blackout drunks with a vicious need to sink their teeth into everything. 

He scoffed at himself for thinking it. Yet, as he made his way back, his steps were heavy and clumsy.


End file.
